Chapter Two: Division

After three months of cultivation, Chen Xi had roughly come to understand the strangeness of this world. He also grasped the subtle uses of spiritual power. It wasn’t that having strong spiritual power guaranteed anything extraordinary. Frankly, based on the historical information Chen Xi had gathered, powerful spiritual energy was mostly useful for defense; in other respects, even if it could resonate with the heavens and earth, it didn’t possess significant destructive force.

If you hoped to strike down an opponent with lightning, forget it—it was simply impossible. Although combat ability was mediocre, there was no denying that spiritual power enhanced one’s mental faculties. The stronger the spiritual power, the faster the thinking and the sharper the mind. What would normally take an hour to understand could be grasped in ten minutes—an enormous difference.

If qi was the force that greatly increased a warrior’s combat power, then spiritual power was what significantly elevated a scholar’s intellect. It’s hard to say which was more important—strength or wisdom—but these two distinct paths determined the course each person would follow.

Of course, some sought to cultivate both qi and spiritual power simultaneously, hoping to strengthen their combat ability while enhancing their intellect. But most who tried this met a dead end. It was true that a few succeeded in mastering both, but reaching the pinnacle was extraordinarily difficult. At least, from what Chen Xi had learned about history, no one had ever done it.

After realizing this, Chen Xi decisively abandoned physical cultivation. He had dabbled in qi before, though very little, but due to his family’s heritage, the techniques he learned were decent. Now, with his limited qi, he could still manage simple feats like throwing stones. With effort and battlefield experience, achieving the rank of a centurion might be possible, but advancing further seemed unlikely.

As for reaching the legendary heights of someone like Xiang Yu, capable of seemingly crossing the void midair—he wouldn’t even dare to dream of that. That was beyond human limits. According to the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, perhaps only twenty-four generals could achieve such feats, and as for Lü Bu, Chen Xi found the idea thrilling—he was like a human missile!

Since Chen Xi had previously cultivated both paths, he had some spiritual power, though it was very weak, similar to his qi. His defense would have been insufficient even against a child shooting arrows without qi cultivation.

Fortunately, the fusion of the two seemed to stimulate Chen Xi’s brain, causing his spiritual power to grow steadily over these three months. This was something Chen Xi took pride in. With his current spiritual power level, he could perform secret techniques to summon fog and rain, and even defend against arrows. According to those standards, he had entered the inner sanctum.

By his own estimate, he had reached the level of a madman’s expansive thinking. His cognitive abilities had greatly improved, his learning capacity continuously increasing. Had he possessed this memory and speed of thought before, he might have already made it into the Chinese Academy of Sciences. He felt as though he had evolved.

“Snap!” Chen Xi slapped the scroll down on the desk, finally finishing all the books from his family’s collection. He had memorized the important parts and had a general impression of the rest. His spiritual power growth had slowed, and he could now consider himself a true son of the Eastern Han.

“Master, won’t you continue cultivating your spiritual power?” Chen Lan asked, looking at the bored Chen Xi sitting beneath the tree.

“There’s nothing left to cultivate,” Chen Xi replied with a wry smile. He had only recently realized that at his level, there were no more textbooks to follow. From now on, it was all about personal insight. Perhaps a sudden breakthrough would come, or perhaps this was his limit. Even if a breakthrough happened, it would only purify his spiritual power, making it less susceptible to distractions and easier to wield.

“Nothing left to cultivate?” Chen Lan asked, puzzled. She didn’t understand the concept.

“The wind’s picking up. Let’s go back; it’s about to rain,” Chen Xi changed the subject without further explanation. The sky was dimming, and rain was on the horizon. He had completely mastered the so-called secret arts and, combined with modern knowledge of weather formation, could summon rain more easily and on a larger scale than the books described, with less energy spent.

“The wind’s picking up?” Chen Lan looked up at the sun. Before she could protest, the sky grew cloudy.

Chen Xi smiled and pulled his only attendant back to their quarters. The rain that had fallen was his masterpiece—a downpour spanning dozens of miles. The sky’s moisture would endure for a long time, falling heavily. No one would suspect it was caused by a human spell; after all, Chen Xi had merely acted as a catalyst.

“What a heavy rain!” Chen Lan exclaimed in awe.

“Yes, a heavy rain,” Chen Xi echoed, feeling a deep sense of accomplishment. He had fully mastered the several spells recorded in the books. As for formations, he still didn’t understand their principles, and he had no secret techniques beyond these.

Chen Xi was somewhat envious of the secret arts. Zhang Jiao, for example, had relied on Yellow Turban secret arts to transform a disorganized, undisciplined force of hundreds of thousands into invincible Yellow Turban warriors. They only lost because Zhang Jiao died; otherwise, who could say who would have emerged victorious?

From what Chen Xi understood, Zhang Jiao possessed a secret technique that greatly boosted a person’s combat power. It could buff thousands at once, and those fearless Yellow Turban warriors were enough to crush the elite forces of the Han dynasty. This alone spoke to the technique’s terrifying power. As a trump card, it was an unbeatable weapon for turning the tide.

As for formations, Chen Xi knew little. No one had told stories of someone deploying a large formation that completely overwhelmed a superior enemy force. He had read that true formations could reverse the course of battles, but having never witnessed one, Chen Xi decided to wait until the opportunity came.

Whether he would meet someone willing to teach him was uncertain. In this era, many techniques were only passed down to inner disciples; outsiders had to rely on luck. After all, these methods were hard-earned knowledge, and withholding them was understandable. But for now, such things were distant concerns for Chen Xi. What he needed was to wait—for one event to occur.

The Yellow Turban Rebellion was over. Next came Dong Zhuo’s entry into Luoyang, followed by the coalition of eighteen warlords against him. But before that, there was the matter of the proclamation against Dong Zhuo. Whether this proclamation was issued by Cao Cao after assassinating Dong Zhuo or was Cao Cao’s forged edict made a significant difference.

Though both were forgeries, the details varied greatly, and this would influence many events to come.